


The Incident

by DeadishScribe



Category: Star Trek: Lower Decks (Cartoon)
Genre: Action, Consensual Kissing, F/M, Hallucinations, Hallucinogens, Kissing, Neck Kissing, Non-Consensual Kissing, Shore Leave, Which then becomes consensual, alien shootout, gratuitous kissing, maybe a lil tiddy, power team, pre-finale, shuttle ride, very consensual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:09:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28282965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeadishScribe/pseuds/DeadishScribe
Summary: Boimler and Mariner head down to a planet for some well earned shore leave... until it goes horribly, horribly wrong that it.
Relationships: Brad Boimler/Beckett Mariner
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	The Incident

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome! I don't have much to say about this fic aside from that I had a sort of lightning inspiration. I had planned on 1500 words, maybe 2600 tops, but it sort of... got away from in the best of ways.
> 
> Please, enjoy!

_57862.4_

_The Rama System_

_Raxum Prime, first moon of Axulon IV_

_Spaceport Talvo_

It happened so fast. Explosions, phaser fire, screaming. Lots of swearing. No one really knew what was going on, but Mariner knew she had to get Boimler out of harm’s way, which was difficult considering Bradworth Boimler’s more than common tendency to _be_ in harm’s way. All of this had nothing to do with the two of them, oddly enough. It was shore leave (it’s always on shore leave, yipee) some guerrillas of the planet’s rebel movement decided to make a move with Starfleet being in the crossfire and putting the planet’s government in a diplomatic hot seat. He should’ve died a dozen times along the way to their shuttle, yet he was in fact alive, and he was alive for one reason—ensign Beckett Mariner, thank the Enterprise.

Sure, they had been in many such life threatening situations before but this… this was intense. Beyond the usual burst of adrenaline. Their bodies were close, clinging to one another for support as they raced through the streets that had become an urban battlefield. Everyone was running and screaming and bleeding. Boimler could only hear the beat of his now pounding heart coursing through his ears again and again and again. All the ensigns had to rely on were themselves, their friendship, and their drive to survive. Together they did, despite the phaser fire and explosives and—oddly enough—bullets. Sword fighting even. And… homoerotic sword fighting at that? Alright then, _nice._ At least for Mariner. Boimler was just trying to not pee his pants mid sprint. They just wanted a little shoreleave, and lil’ R&R. Just lunch, that’s all they wanted. How did it end up like this. How could it go so wrong.

They just wanted some shoreleave together. That wasn’t too much to ask, was it? They had earned it, didn’t they? Boimler _loved_ Starfleet, he really, truly did… but sometimes? Fuck the universe.

Between the two of them, there were at least a dozen and a half slashes across their skin, as well as several pockets of bruising already beginning to set in. Earned together, side by side, shoulder to shoulder. Bradward even proved somewhat competent. A bit of a nerd and fights just like the manuals and simulations told him too, but he might amount to something. One day. In the distant future.

The two of them collapsed to the ground once the door had sealed, desperate for breath. Everything started to slow down, that drop off from the adrenaline that leaves you shaky and dazed. Boimler was simply trying to stay as upright as his position on the floor would allow, wiping his face with his sleeves and moving wild locks of hair from his face. It was then that Mariner turned towards Boimler to sit on her knees, grabbed him by the now ragged collar of his uniform, and pulled him into a deep, messy kiss. There was something simply magnetic about the moment. She went all in too, tongue and everything. Maybe a little too much tongue at times. His hand went to her shoulder, neither pushing her away nor pulling her in. It was a number of moments before they separated. Tongues clashed in an awkward dance, like an almost-not-quite waltz. Lips pressed together, almost crushing each other with each motion. There seemed to be fighting just outside the shuttle, if she cared to listen that is. Even the blasts and booms and bangs against the hull failed to draw her attention away from this horrible, terrible, utterly idiotic and pointless mistake in progress. Her eyes were shut tight, almost as if she were afraid to look at what she was doing. Maybe she was, she wasn’t sure, and honestly she really didn’t wanna know.

Eventually, the two of them needed to breathe, so she pushed him away not unlike finishing a shotgunned beer, pushing off of him into the seats behind her. Both now rested against opposite walls of the shuttle and each utterly out of breath. There had been a string of saliva between that split as they broke away, the two ends now hanging from their lips.

Once she had regained her sense and sanity, the words she heard from _his_ lips were basically along the lines of what she was expecting, “What the hell, Mariner?!”. Same tone and volume too.

“I-I don’t know! I’m sorry!” She stuttered out as she buried her face into her hands.

“So not cool!”

Mariner then threw her hands up with a scowl, “I know okay??”

Boimler was… quite frankly, at a loss. This was a fucked up situation before, and now it's a fucked up situation with a sprinkle of confusion to spice things up. Another pound against the hull rattled the shuttle, then another still. He bounced up to his feet, wiping his chin as he settled into the pilot’s seat.

“Dude, what’re you doing?”

Boimler spun the seat around to half face Mariner, vaguely gesturing out the front window, “Did you forget that we’re in the middle of a _major conflict_?”

“Alright, alright” Mariner raised her hands in defense and settled in the other pilot chair, “should be easy enough to just fly out, right?”

“I mean, I guess?” He replied. Boimler manipulated the controls… only to get no response. Trying again, this time the shuttle simmered towards taking off before abruptly dying again. “What?! What the hell is going on!”

Meanwhile, Mariner was securing the shuttle’s systems, “Power coupling on the outer hull is out, probably damaged in the fighting”

“Great! Now what?” He turned to the Badass Space Adventurer sitting right next to him. There was the slightest hint of sarcasm at the situation as a whole, but he was otherwise honest and open to her unique ‘problem solving’.

She looked around the shuttle. A pair of phasers, a few tricorders, emergency rations, a fire extinguisher, an engineering kit and so on and so forth. Quite a bit of stuff, some of which being someone useful. Power was fading, fast. The chaos outside breaching into the shuttle was rather unlikely, so they had time to think. Unfortunately, most of the systems were going down as well. Weapons nonfunctional, can’t even hold a charge. Engines won’t start. Shields are nonexistent. Sensors are barely holding on, but they’re basically limited to the ship, thought not for long. Most systems are redundant and separated with only a few points of communication with the others. If they could find a way to hook a power source into the sensors, they could get a better idea of the situation outside (though the view through the windshield was a sight to behold, dear god). None of the other systems could be charged in the best case scenario, let alone now. They didn’t have a power source. However, if they had a full view of things, they could better plan accordingly. The only question was how…

“Boimler!” She called out, pointing to a storage cabinet, “get the tricorders and start stripping the parts, we need the power cells.”

“Oook, but why?” his eyebrow raised yet again, but this time in curiosity rather than criticism. By now he had learned to trust Mariner with his life. There was no doubt to be had about that. 

“If we can wire them all together, we’ll have a battery powerful enough to sustain sensors, at least for a few minutes” Mariner said, beginning to input the proper commands on the correct consoles. 

“And why would that matter?” Of course, he was still complying with her request as he questioned on. It was less a matter of believing her but simply the need to be in on the plan. He was quite capable himself, and Mariner had recognized that at least a few times. It felt good every time. Like a little warm-fuzzy feeling deep in his chest. Except it was also tingly. Perhaps tangy? 

“We’re blind right now. If we can get our eyes back, we’ll know what we’re up against. You got those power matrices hooked up yet?” Before she could finish speaking, Boimler plopped the makeshift battery in her hands, a smug look painted across his face.

He placed his fists on his hips, standing ever so slightly taller “I’m better than you think I am”

“Pffft, as if, you dork” she said with a ruffling of his hair and a roll of her eyes. When she turned away, though, a soft smile spread across her lips. Something about working together as a team felt… right. She couldn’t explain it, it just did. What could she say? He’d grown on her, sometimes in ways she hadn’t expected or considered. It was odd, she usually had all her corners covered. 

Boimler, meanwhile, had turned his attention to the rest of the supplies. He was a bit hungry, sure, but not desperate enough to eat emergency rations. That was ignoring that this was the wrong time and place for food in general, of course. Phasers? Of course. He set each to stun with satisfying beeps—he truly did have a love for the little sounds of StarFleet tech—then set them aside on a passenger seat facing them towards the wall. The fire extinguisher was put in the chair next to them. Wouldn’t hurt to have it on hand, they may just need it if things got much worse. On to the engineering kit; it was merely a set of basic tools, all the things you’d need to change a space tire. None of the powered ones were sufficient to feed into the shuttle itself, so they weren’t of much necessity at the moment. 

“Boims, get me a spanner, quick! There’s something wrong with the interface and I can’t trace it back to its source” never mind, they just became very important. 

Which one was the spanner again? Come on, he had been using one just this morning on this very shuttle, he oughta be able to identify one now _._ Damn nerves were getting to him. Why? This wasn’t his first rodeo, so why now? For the moment he decided that didn’t matter. He needed to keep focused on the challenge at hand. He could do it, _they_ could do this.

“Ok, one spanner, coming right up” He took a moment, breathed in, then out, then made his way up and delivered the needed spanner, fortunately without incident. Mariner nodded a thanks as she accepted it, quickly getting to work. 

“Well, I suppose so, everything seems to be where it should be” he paused and locked his gaze with Mariner’s. Her eyes were nebulas of mahogany hues. Warm like the hearth of a woodland cabin, and they held a similar fire too. He still hadn’t quite figured out everything that made her tick. Hating the senior officers made exactly zero sense to him, but he supposed that was her business, he had never pried too far.

It didn’t help that she had just pounced on him for a second time and he found himself… not entirely uncomfortable. It was _just_ shy of warm and fuzzy. Definitely tangy. Confusion was the prominent thing running through his mind at the moment though, along with ‘ _what the hell_ ’ and ‘ _what the fuck’_ and ‘ _has she always been this warm?_ ’. Somehow, even her tongue felt less foreign than before, despite its intensive probing of his own mouth. This time, however, it was less tongues flopping against each other and more tongues awkwardly learning to tango. She was the one leading, obviously. 

Her hand pressed on his chest, pinning him to the wall. Soon enough she found herself in his lap, her free hand sliding up his neck to grasp the nape of his neck. His hair was almost impossibly soft, like a spring cloud on a sunny Risa day. Her fingers weaved through purple locks, pulling Boimler deeper into their embrace. She never thought she’d ever be the poetic type, but if she were to go full prose for anyone, it would be Bradford. 

Boimler in turn found it rather difficult to resist, understandably. Mariner was beautiful, and soft, and well toned. Damn, those biceps are rock solid. Her abs? Impeccable. The way she was working his mouth over with her tongue like a master dancer was exquisite. All in all… this wasn’t so bad. But they couldn’t, they shouldn't, not now. He eventually built up the necessary willpower to push her just far enough away to speak properly, “woah woah woah, what’re you doing? What are _we_ doing?”

“I… I don’t know man” Mariner paused, looking off to the side. Her mind was racing, faster and faster. Where was this going to lead her? What could be the ramifications, the consequences? Did she even care at the moment? “Look, we’re plenty safe here”, the hull rattled as she spoke, “and… and I can’t explain this, it’s one of those gut urges or instincts or whatever you wanna call them, alright man?” she finished, rolling her eyes. 

“Oh god, do I have a parasite again??”

Mariner froze in her tracks, straddling Boimler. He had a point, this wasn't her, this wasn’t natural. At least, according to all logic and reason.

It was then that she perked up, sliding off Boimler (to his relief), and went back to the consoles. Focusing on the task, acknowledging that whatever she was ‘ _feeling_ ’ could very well be artificial in nature. That’s what set her straight. They needed to get off planet, hell, getting out of the city would do. Anywhere safe really. The spanner hummed and whirled with energy—it reminded her of some old earth television program she couldn’t remember the name of, something about a weird blue box maybe—and before long everything was functioning… for sensors ( _not_ ‘ _sense-oars_ ’) at least. 

“Oook, let’s see here” Mariner leaned her head down to read each of the screens as she worked on them, “specifically, two non-functional conduits, one conduit completely blown off the shuttle, one of the plasma ducts is sealed shut aaaand…” her eyes squinted as she read onwards.

The abrupt halt did little to comfort Boimler, and instead activated his stress responses; the stuttering, the sweating, the darting eyes, the bit lip. “And what, Mariner? **And what?** ”

“Ok! Jeez, get off my ass” she grumbled as she stood and spun to face him, “we’re surrounded by 54 Raxians; 23 guerrillas and 31 state forces. Then we have 9 Cardassians on the other side of the haul engaged with 13 Klingons—cocky bastards—-and to top it all off there are another 69 (nice) life forms of various races and affiliations!” She bounced up after her long winded list of Doom, fists on her hips in a triumphant fashion for some reason Boimler had failed to ascertain. 

“Wait, what the hell are the rest of them even fighting about? This isn’t even their conflict!”

“Fuck if I know, dude! Klingons and Cardassians are assholes so they probably just wanna fight because they can. I’m seeing a cluster of Andorians, which is no surprise, they’re always eager for a good fight. The rest are less ‘fighting’ and more ‘scrambling for cover’” Mariner made a point to exaggerate the air quotations like the sarcastic bastard she is. 

‘ _There she goes again_ ’ Boimler thought, ‘ _doing her cool Badass Space Adventurer thing, again, while I sit here, useless. Again. Well, I handed her a spanner, but that’s not saying much_ ’ his thoughts kept racing as he watched Mariner do her thing, something he was very accustomed with by now on a very intimate level. He had to focus now though, and focus he would, “and that’s just the immediate area of the shuttle, yes? Because there was a lot of fighting back where we were in the markets too”

“Yeah. We can reroute most of the necessary power around the busted conduits, but someone has to go out and replace the conduit that got blasted off” her gaze was grim, her chest heaving in a sigh as she turned to him. 

It gave Boimler pause. It was a simple enough repair in and of itself, but they were Star Fleet, they would be a massive target to far too many people for his liking… being a target at all was a problem for him in general, but the point stands. “I will then. I’m quick and efficient, Rutherford taught me a few tricks, and I have a small build”

“How would that help??”

“Makes me a smaller target” he said in a half sheepish tone. While he will always hate his stature, it occasionally came with an advantage or two.

Mariner pinned him again, this time by the shoulder, and _not_ in a sexy way. There was no form of lust or desire conveyed in any form this time, “Boims, _no_ , you’ll be gunned down the second you step out this shuttle. Let me do this, action is what I’m good at”

He shrugged her off in retort, “You’re not the only one who can handle themselves in a crisis! I’ll be fine!” His hands shot out from his sides as frantic gestures of emphasis.

“Yeah, you can, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to risk…!” Mariner paused, eyes opening wider before she took a step back. 

“Risk what?!” Boimler matched each of her steps with a pointed finger, “Your reputation? Your pride? Your general sense of superiority?”

“You, Bradworth! I don’t… I _can’t_ risk you” her eyes dropped and a half hearted fist pressed against his shoulder.

That was… something to say alright. A whole lot of something. A massive, incredibly large Something, with a capital ‘S’. A big ol’ Something he had positively no clue what to do with. Hearing something so emotionally heartfelt and earnest would be in character for Tendi, or even Rutherford, but Mariner? No. Not really. Especially with something about this, not with him. Which actually really unnerved Brad. Quite a bit. In his mind, this was a rather strong indicator of probable fatalities. Boimler’s read this kind of stuff in old logs from the Enterprise crews. Ensign? Check. Command division? Check. Not good. He knew Mariner was seasoned, that she had experienced more than the three others of their little group combined in all their time at Star Fleet. Someday it wouldn’t be enough though, and he knew that too. 

Mariner could still feel her adrenal level dropping, bit by bit, moment to moment. Her head was finally getting on straight. While she was horrified that she did any of that, she didn’t regret it either. In fact, now that she sat with it, she found her thoughts drifting to the kisses more and more. Only in scarce moments here or there, but still. There was a… vague, somewhat warm-fuzzy feeling deep in her gut. It was an unfamiliar sensation, one she hadn’t felt in a long time, if ever. It took a flex of willpower to push all of that to the back burners though. Now, they needed to keep their shit together and get out of the meat grinder alive. Easy enough.

Right?

It was then that she finally registered the droning ‘ _blah blah blah, blah blah, blahblah blah_ ’ from behind her. Brad Boimler had thoughts and he was determined to share them. Maybe she should listen, he had good plans. Usually. Often. Sometimes. 

“With the damaged conduit being so close to the door, I could repair it while you provide cover _and_ protect the shuttle. Then, once I’m done, we hop right back in and get the fuck out of here” Boimler said as he armed the phasers, handing one to her. In his other hand he had the toolbox, everything he needed for the task at hand. 

Mariner’s head recoiled away from the man. He didn’t swear often. It was understandable, what with facing the potential of death and all, yet it was still unsettling. “Uh, yeah, right. Just don’t freeze up, alright? Last thing I need is to get myself shot covering covering your worthless ass”

Boimler waved her off, “Yeah, yeah, whatever. We got work to do, you gonna open the door or what? My hands are full.” He said, raising The Eyebrow of Judgment.

Mariner hated to admit it but… forceful Boimler is kinda hot. Not appreciated in the slightest. She would’ve thought it would feel unnatural, but rather the opposite. Almost as if it had always been there waiting to come out. Unnerving in and of itself, really. Something she positively _did not need_ amongst all the present bullshit. He had certainly grown more capable as of late, but it was oddly sudden growth. No explanation, maybe just gathering general experience, but she liked to think it was her influence. 

She groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose, “Alright, fine! Just keep your head low, yeah? Work fast, watch your corners, be safe” her hand then went to his shoulder, giving a quick squeeze before she pressed the big, red button to open the shuttle door. The important buttons were often large and red in Star Fleet for some reason. Mariner didn’t care for it, too cliche, super lame. Oddly satisfying to press funny enough. She would never admit it, of course. She had a reputation to uphold. 

It was hell outside. Phasers, plasma bolts, bullets… javelins? Ok, that was a thing. As Boimler made his way immediately right along the hull, Mariner covered him, trying to take out immediate hostiles within thirty to forty meters—stun, of course. No need for fatalities, nor did she want any. All she wanted was to get the fuck off this planet already and get the two of them to safety. Not that she was looking forward to the shuttle ride, once they left the planet it would be a long ride back to the ship, a total of two and a half hours. Ish. Two and a half-ish hours of interpersonal awkwardness was less than appealing, then again, anywhere would be better than here. 

Fortunately, Boimler was quick. His hands blurred over the machinery, interchanging this part and that bit with this tool and that tool. It was rather impressive really, he was even dodging the occasional phaser that came his way, good boy. 

“Alright it’s done let’s get thefuckouttahere!” He said as he scrambled back into the shuttle with both his tools and Mariner in tow. She made sure to stun a last few combatants before heading to the cockpit. Boimler was right behind her after situating all of the gear, and try as he might, he failed to avert his gaze from Mariner’s form. More specifically that ass, it must’ve been crafted by the gods. That’s no excuse, of course, but he figured it would be alright just this once considering whatever the fuck had happened. 

Mariner just had to complicate his life every chance she got, because why not? Then again, it was the better for having her in it. Right? It felt odd to say, considering the way she treated him all the time, but she was his closest friend. Arguably his best friend. Which just made all of this stranger to be quite honest. At least the recruiters didn’t lie when they said StarFleet wasn’t going to be boring, he just wished it could be exciting in more rule (and law) abiding ways. To be fair, she didn’t cause the commotion this time, surprisingly enough. Pleasantly so, of course. The two of them made a good team forgoing… whatever the hell Mariner was doing, he still wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure how he felt about it either. The man had always been a nervous wreck. He was simply thankful they had larger problems to focus on, forcing him to repress whatever nerves Mariner had frayed.

Mariner leaned back with a relieved sigh having imputed a course for the autopilot to follow. Her head swiveled to look her co-pilot over. No bleeding, good good. His coordination was still functional, though he was still a bit shaken; his hands trembled ever so slightly as they passed over the control panels, checking the shuttles one at a time.

Rather diligent, organized, procedural. And his lips did this little thing every so often when he was deep in his work. She was lucky he was doing it now, biting his lower lip just barely. It was enough though. Enough to spark a fire deep down, one which was intent on tearing down that uptight, by the books demeanor. Mariner wanted to bring it down bit by bit, watch him unravel into a bundled mess she could tie however she wished. Then again, maybe there was the resemblance of a back bone lying somewhere within him she hadn’t been to a spot. She hated to admit it, but she secretly hoped he would go all out and take control. That thought got her especially hot and bothered, working up a junior officer like Brad into a nigh primal state, hopefully to be on the receiving end of the release. She had a sneaking suspicion he would surprise her, and she _really_ hoped her intuition was right. And maybe, just maybe, she could pull it out of him. That would be positively fantastic, and quite possibly, dare she said it, orgasmic. she was definitely into the huffed up act, which quite honestly astounded her. Never in a million years would she have thought that Bradward Boimler would give her even the resemblance of the hots, yet her she was. Then again, what the hell was that back there on the planet (and on the shuttle ride back)? She was afraid the answer may have been the same. Wait, hold on… shit, she had a fantasy back then too, she almost forgot! Or maybe repressed. Yeah, probably that. Definitely. She wasn’t in her right mind for some reason, perhaps her adrenaline fucking with her again, she’s been through so much shit that her responses get mixed up sometimes. That had to be it. Bradward Boimler certainly couldn’t be her type…

_Right_?

Right. She just had to resist the urges welling Io from deep within her core. Wait. Urges? Desires? For _Boims_ of all people? That shouldn’t be right. That _can’t_ be right, for so many reasons. She didn’t want things to get weird between them, well, at least not any weirder than it already was.

Then again, the damage is already done, what could be the harm in just another little taste, simple last sip of a Buffer Time Margarita right before continuing on to the next task.

Next thing she knew, she had forced him into one of the chairs lining the sides of the shuttle, straddling his lap. One of her hands pressed against the wall behind him to support her weight, the other cupping his cheek moving back to the nape of his neck as their tongues continued the uninterrupted dance from earlier. 

Boimler could swear her kiss tasted like… sunshine. It sounds ridiculous, but that was all that came to mind in the moment, and he liked it. It felt good. Really, very, incredibly good. No explanation, no identifiable reason, nothing. But he wasn’t going to fight it, not this time. He couldn’t and there wasn’t any point in resisting now. His hand tentatively wasn’t to her hips to grasp her. What he got in return was her pressing into his grasp, grinding against him at the same time. Her hand left his neck in order to raise his own hands upwards. He wasn’t very bold, she had to guide him along like a damn treasure map. It was all, however, still rather enjoyable. Such an uptight, regulation abiding officer just clicked with something in her. Now was no exception. 

Eventually he got the message and cupped her breast over her uniform. Better than nothing, but she’d have to take the lead again. It wasn’t long before she unclaso her uniform jacket, opening it fully to him. Instead of going straight to the prize he decided to lift her shirt just above her belly button. It was cute in a weird way. He drew a finger slowly, tenderly across her skin from the hem of her pants—who knew he was such a tease—then up to her belly button. It hung there for a moment, sending a shiver up along her spine to the base of her skull. God she loved that feeling. 

It was his hand that made its way under and up her shirt to truly grasp her now. His hand somehow felt larger than she thought it would. Another point for the Boimster.

Yeah, she liked that, _Boimster_.

He kneaded her tit initially with a gentle care, eventually working into a forceful groping. It turns out he had more guts than she originally thought. So out of character. A surprise to be certain, but a welcome one.

Meanwhile, they eagerly carried on swapping tongues, not unlike a couple of clumsy teens. It was long before he pulled the cups of her regulation bra down and he could feel her stiffened nipple between his fingers. With a gulp he squeezed his fingers around it. Once again she was pressing into him, now with a smile aimed down at him.

“Atta boy, finally off to the races!” She purred into his ear. Well, they hadn’t actually gotten all that far yet, but she figured encouragement could only help a guy like Brad. 

In response he began to kiss up along her jaw and down to her neck where he bit down. It wasn’t terribly hard, but it was more than she had expected out of Boims. She was proud. Pleasured, but proud. Oh most certainly pleasured, especially as he attended to the fresh mark on her neck with passionate lips. This day had seriously improved from not too long ago. Electricity flowed and courses throughout her body, especially wherever Boimler touched. The numerous wounds made it all sting just a little here and there. Mariner found that it added to the hotness factor for her. 

There was a tingling heat in her lower core as she ground into her playmate. It wasn’t just that driving her onwards, however. She had also found a craving for his warmth, drawing it into herself. She had lovers prior, yes, but those were different. There was a spark that wasn’t been there before, one she hadn’t known existed in the first place. 

Moans from the both of them intermixed, bouncing off the interior of the shuttle in tritanium-alloy reverberations. Their motions steadily became more impassioned. She could even feel his little soldier began rising to attention. Well, not so little, oddly enough. One would expect Bradward Boimler to be average at best in this department, but it turned out he was surprising her more and more. Tension from all this time washed away from them down a rushing river. Not all of it, however. Just enough to really rev the engines. So close, lingering just under the surface waiting to rear its head.

Instead of that desperately anticipated breach, however, the shuttle computer alerted the two of them with an ETA of 2 minutes.

Wait, what? 

Their faces parted but not their eyes. They needed to move, but the jarring shock of being dragged into the present utterly paralyzed them. At least for a few moments, it allowed them to catch their racing breath if nothing else.

Mariner recoiled first, “ _Fuck!_ ”

Then Boimler, “Shit!”

Beckett bounced back and off of him, scrambling to stand up straight so she could at least attempt to look presentable. ‘ _Boimster_ ’ was still dazed by the sight of her bare tits for the gifts unto mankind that they were. 

Nerd. 

He was her nerd, but still most definitely a nerd. Mariner snapped her fingers at him a few times without interrupting her effort to properly reclothe herself, “Hey, dork! Eyes up, I need you frosty”

For several seconds, all that Boimler actually processed from that was ‘ _I need you_ ’.

Once the rest of what Mariner had said registered, his entire body looked like a collection of wet noodles in the wind as he stood himself up. Fortunately he only had to straighten his uniform out and, uh… take down the tent. So to speak. A very defined tent that she made sure to burn into her memory. Mariner would revisit it, later, for personal use. Mariner felt the heat building in her cheeks and ears. She was also rather glad the shuttle’s shuttle’s lighting was low to hide whatever blush may have shown.

Apparently, the Cerritos had warped to the system while they were down on the planet. She’d guess that it’s because they’re most likely the last shuttle out for shore leave and the captain was getting impatient (as per usual). 

Eventually he had straightened up alongside her facing toward the rear of the pods. Brad had been able to fenagle his ‘ _hydrospanner_ ’ down a pant leg until it stood at ease enough to be passable. Hopefully. 

This was the second time they had to fix up their uniforms in a hurry to report for duty. Which wasn’t a lot, but it was weird that it happened twice. 

What was that old earth saying? ‘If I had a nickel’...?

———————

The captain walked in, hands clasped behind her back as she scanned the room. She swiftly made her way to the doctor and two afflicted ensigns. Both Mariner and Boimler were in medical gowns, sitting facing both each other and the doctor between them on opposite bio-beds in Sick Bay. It was far from the first time either of them had to make a visit to see the good ol’—if extremely grouchy all the time—doctor. Fortunately Tendi was still on shore leave, neither of them could bear Tendi hearing any of this. Ever. 

Freeman walked up to the beds, hands clasped behind her back in true Starfleet captain fashion, “I’m glad to see you both unharmed, considering all that happened. We’re facing a far too familiar problem for the Federation; planetary governments underplaying, or flat out omitting terrorist elements”

Oh fantastic. Certainly not the first time for Mariner.

Much to the duo’s horror, the captain had more to say, and it wasn’t anything good “With the exception that there _is no_ known terrorist faction on the planet at all”

_What._

Well, that explained a lot

Mariner’s words slipped from her mouth in a smooth tone in an attempt to mask her bewilderment, “uuuh, how does that work?”

“As it turns out—” Doctor T’Ana began to speak from behind her PADD, lowering it as she moved around the two beds to finish her final scans, “—whatever you consumed down on the planet was laced with a potent hallucinogen, strong enough to make the two of you freak the fuck out and start shooting up the central plaza. Did either of you eat anything down there?”

Not at all humiliating. Less humiliating to hear it than filing the actual reports, at least. Those were basically on permanent record. They made a secret pact to omit certain… unimportant details. 

Mariner and Boimler looked directly to one another, then back and forth between T’Ana and Freeman.

“Well, we were at a cafe, having lunch in the middle of our visit to the city. Everything was going fine until…” Boimler looked down, clench his hands on his knees, “until it wasn’t”

He looked up, surprised to find Mariner reaching across what felt like a chasm between them to hold his hand. Gentle, firm, understanding. Even she had been in the same place he was in now, long, long ago, on a plent far, far away. Wars follow you for the rest of your life, she was simply glad this didn’t actually happen, that he hadn’t experienced the chaos and carnage of urban combat. Though it sure as hell felt real, that they couldn’t deny, even for Mariner.

The moment she realized her hand had stayed a little too long, she scrambled back to sit up, “So, Doc, this hallucinogen alters behavior and judgment, right?” Mariner’s arms were stiff, as if holding up a looming cliff side. She was just barely biting the edge of her lip.

“What? No, not necessarily. You had clarity for the situation you _thought_ you were going through. Whatever psychoactive effects it may have are minimal at worse”

“O-Oh, I see! Thanks, I guess…”

The good doctor raised an eyebrow, but decided not to press the topic further, much to Mariner’s relief. Which honestly didn’t make much of a difference considering the ramifications of Doctor T’Ana’s statement. She was desperately hoping she could pin whatever the hell happened on the terrible trip, but those hopes were dashed. 

Shit.

The captain now turned to T’Ana, “Are they alright though? No side effects or abnormalities?” she said, raising her eyebrow.

“No, nothing that I can detect. A few bruises on Mariner’s neck, but it’s not related” oh god did she have to say that? “There’s just a few final tests I wanna run, but after those you’ll be free to go, and make sure to let me know if anything out of the ordinary happens, yeah?” The doctor’s words flew from her mouth like a storm, though the trio of humans understood her well enough.

The captain patted the doctor’s shoulder, nodded to the ensigns, “Under normal circumstances there would be severe punishments… but you weren’t in your right minds and no real damage was ultimately done, perhaps a few broken stalls or windows and whatnot, so no action shall be taken. Just… be careful next time? We can continue this conversation later when you’re both fully recuperated. We’ll get to the bottom of what happened, who drugged you, and why” The captain nodded then walked out as stoically as she entered. Mariner blew a raspberry with her tongue pointing to her mother, uptight officer that she was. Always the professional. Always on task. Always focused.

She sighed, looking to Boimler as the cat doctor left to her desk, “Hey, about what happened on the planet—”

“And shuttle ride back” Boimler huffed, crossing his arms in a bitter gesture. He always was so dramatic. Then again, this time it was warranted.

“—yes, yes, and the shuttle ride back” she rolled her eyes before gathering herself to look Boimler in the eye. Except she couldn’t manage it, and instead looked down between her feet, “I’m sorry. It was a dick thing of me, and I honestly do _not_ know what happened or why. Maybe it was influenced by the drugs, it was a wild trip, I don’t know. But it won’t happen again, I promise… also you’re lacking in both skill and experience, you don’t meet my standards” Boimler was going to object before Mariner hushed him by placing her finger on his lips “and no, Barb doesn’t count”

That got him in line. _Excellent_.

Wait, this shit again? Ah great. She despised the fact she loved it. She didn’t want to admit it though, and she _never_ would until the end of her days. It wasn’t to be hashed out at the moment though, that time comes later when she drinks herself silly. Then again, it always seemed like some of the biggest trouble they had gotten into together—aside from now—had been when was in fact silly drunk. Romulan whiskey and ale, specifically. Thankfully she had several bottles of it stashed around the ship, and she planned to partake most excessively. It would be really great if it entirely wiped her memory of this whole fucking ordeal. 

“Just, look…” Mariner paused, looked to the floor, then back up to Boimler as she rested her hand on his shoulder, “let’s just… forget this ever happened? A fluke?”

“Well we sure as hell can't forget the reports—” Boimler found himself pulled by Mariner’s arm wrapping around his neck, bringing their faces.

“Boimster, shut up and agree, got it?” She got a nod and with that let him go, “good boy”

Boimler paused, looked away, then back to her, but then away again. She couldn’t stand antsy Boimler.

“ _What is it_ ”

“Boimster?” At least gets wasn’t protesting the bit about shutting up and agreeing, which admittedly he was failing at the former, “Where’d you get that one from? Please tell me it’s not sticking” he said, giving her a dull eyed glare.

“Oh, I don’t know, just testing it out, _Boimster_ , seeing how it feels”

“Please stop”

“ _Oh it feels right alright, **Boimster**_ ”

From there they fought and bickered back and forth, forgetting all about the planet, what had transpired, and the shame of it all. With Boimler huffing into a fit and Mariner dissolving in laughter (which garnered a scolding from Doctor T’Ana), it was safe to say that the Incident would never be spoken of again…

Or would it?

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading the fic if you got this far, I truly hoped you enjoyed it!
> 
> Stay safe everyone  
> With love,  
> That Sorta Dead Dude <3


End file.
